Step To You
by 13LettersLong
Summary: AU. It all started with a theft and the chanced meeting of Antonio Carriedo, heir of a rich company, and Lovino Vargas, an aspiring violinist; two men desperate for attention. A story of conspiracies clashing with loyalties in which trust is tested and love is formed.
1. Chapter 1

**Step to You**

_Summary: AU. It all started with a theft and the chanced meeting of Antonio Carriedo, heir of a rich company, and Lovino Vargas, an aspiring violinist; two men desperate for attention. A story of conspiracies clashing with loyalties in which trust is tested and love is formed. Spamano. _

_Romance/Drama/Humour _

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and any songs mentioned don't belong to me.**

_AN: Well h-hi there… Haha, it's nice to know you might be interested in reading this story of mine ^^ I've been wanting to write a Spamano fic for a while, haha, but there's so much school to worry about QAQ (but then don't we all? Have school to worry about I mean/shot)_

_Hmm, the first few chapters will seem misleadingly happy, let me tell you. It will get darker later on, so… yeah._

_Hehe, so I'm not going to list the pairings here (though if you've been on my profile, you'll probably know who I might possibly include). Also, don't be surprised about some particular characters being used as (somewhat) part of the main cast! I just thought it would be interesting to try using them, haha._

_And just so you know, I will be giving Spain a sort of Pirate!Spain personality with a bit of current Spain twist! Or—well, you'll see~ I just hope y'all will like this version of Spain._

_Thanks to my editor/beta, Pyonn~ who is a (got to keep from barfing, got to keep from barfing…) geni-usdhfaisejfape (genius). She gave me a few more awesome ideas for this fic~ _

_Anyways, I should shut up now, before I bore you people, so onto the story! I hope I don't disappoint! ^^_

* * *

_Antonio's POV_

I had to lose him somewhere. Chilly air whipped across my face, the fog coming out of my mouth slightly obscuring my view as my feet pounded down the slippery sidewalk. I swiftly ran into an alleyway leading to God knows where. "Shit, how did he find me so fast today?"

All I had done was leave the House. Again.

It was starting to get dark, so it was hard to see where I was going (I really hoped I didn't run into a wall like last time. It took two weeks for that bump to heal!) Looking ahead, I saw what looked like a chained fence with garbage leaning against it. I continued heading towards it, as I saw the burly blond figure not too far off on the other side of the street intersection; the intersection I was on ten seconds ago. Sharp blue eyes focused on his prey and his face had a slight look of annoyance. His body showed no signs of exhaustion as he chased after me.

Just like yesterday. And the day before that… and the day before that…

Legs on fire, I slipped on some black ice as I approached the mound of trash.

Oh, but not three days ago. I actually stayed at the House to do my work that day, so ha!

"Shit!" I cursed, as my hands had become scratched from the fall. I scrambled to get up, and rushed to the mountain of garbage. As I started to climb the disgusting bags, a hand caught the back of my unzipped jacket and started to pull me down. I tried to resist, but the pull from the hand was more powerful than my grip on the loose garbage bags, and I started to slip towards the blond.

Not wanting to be caught so soon, I quickly shed my jacket (damn, it is cold today!), took a nearby bag of trash, and threw it at him. With the combined efforts of a jacket in his hands, and garbage in his face, I snickered and continued my climb on the garbage.

When I reached the top, I looked down at the unimpressed blond taking a banana off his head while cleaning disgusting garbage juices off his glasses, and stuck out my tongue at him before jumping down to the other side and continued to run.

"See ya later, Berwald!"

**(ooooo)**

After what I thought would be a good distance away from Sir Stinks-a-Lot, I slowed my pace and took in my surroundings. Strangely dressed people lined the streets, and various instruments playing at the same time could be heard around the area. Fluorescent signs shined advertisements of upcoming theatre shows, and there was a small group of teenagers having a dance off in the nearby park.

It seemed as if I were in the arts district now… interesting.

Everywhere I looked, there was something relating to the arts ranging from beautifully crafted snow sculptures in the park to the carefully placed lighting on the trees, strings of them in complementary colours.

As I started to walk down the sidewalk, I could feel people staring at me for not having a jacket, but I ignored them, hardly caring and wanting to enjoy my surroundings while I could. Berwald was probably going to find me within the next while or so. Since my recent (well, not really) rebellious streak, my mother opted out to hire a sort of… human dog… person.

I say human dog not to be mean, but that's what his job sort of is… whenever I ran off from home, he was sent to catch me and bring me back. Sort of like fetch, except with a bone that runs off on its own.

I sighed. Yes, it wasn't often that I got to go around this part of the city like this—or any other "poorer" areas of the city for that matter. My parents always wanted me to stay at the House or stay in the nicer, "richer" areas. They didn't want "the ways of the commoner" to influence me into doing things that would "tarnish the company name". Yeah… their words not mine.

Of course, being the spoiled child of a CEO, I didn't like being told what _not_ to do, so I did the opposite of what they wanted by constantly running off from my duties in order to go around to these particular parts of the city, or pulling pranks with my best friends, Francis and Gilbert (who were also rich and spoiled children of wealthy companies – go figure).

Whenever I did escape from the House on my own, I always ended up walking aimlessly around the city, until Berwald came, threw me over his shoulder, and called my chauffer to bring me home. It was starting to become a routine really.

Yup, that's what my sad life comprised of day in and out; work, sitting in on meetings, getting to know other snobs… planning escapes (sometimes with Francis and Gilbert) and running off at the most inconvenient times in order to piss off my parents.

_Sigh_.

I envied the happy everyday people walking around carrying out their everyday routines. I wish I could have a simple life like them. They may not be rich like me, but at least they seemed… happy.

"Happy, huh?" I whispered to nobody in particular. The word sounded odd on my tongue, its use rare for me.

People considered me to have a good life and expected me to be happy about having money, but really… I wasn't. It was lonely actually. I may have parents, but they were always too busy to be bothered with me, and I have two best friends, but they had their own duties to fulfill rather than keep me company all day.

I wanted to be happy too. That would be really nice.

_If you want it so much, then don't be a coward and find your happiness._

…

Stupid… inner voice…

Anyways! Enough with the pity party because thinking about all this was starting to get me annoyed… Now what did Francis tell me about the other day? Something about an amazing up-and-coming musician… and when did it get this cold?

Amidst my internal ramblings, I suddenly heard yelling coming from behind me.

"Hey! Give that back you fucker!"

I turned around to see two men running down the sidewalk a distance away. One had a case of some sort tucked under his arm. The other one was wearing a nice suit and running after him with sheets of paper clenched in one fist.

I stared at the approaching figures.

Huh.

I wonder what's in the case.

_Of course, you wonder about the case but not about the running maniacs. OF COURSE._

My inner voice should really shut-up now…

"You're not going to get away with it, dammit!"

Hmm… it was too bad for the suited man, because the thief seemed to be a faster runner than him. Should I stop him…? Ah, but that would be really troublesome…

_Isn't that what snobs say Toni? I thought you wanted to be more like the commoners – to BE a commoner. Wouldn't any good commoner – or person in general – help another in need?_

Inner-me had a good point. But then again if I stopped them, it would cause a commotion and Berwald would surely find me…

During my internal debate, the two men came under the nearby streetlamp and I could see them a bit more clearly. The thief's hood blocked his face, but I could make out a triumphed smile on his face. The other man however, had a face contorted with anger, but also with desperation hidden beneath.

I guess that case meant something then. And… if my inner voice's logic made sense, then helping a fellow citizen would make me less of a spoiled man, and more of a "commoner" right? Because that's what common people do right? Help each other out when in need?

Because I know if it were my parents, they surely would have ignored the suited man, and scoffed at his "simpleton thinking" reasoning that if the case was worth so much to the him, then he should've been more careful with it in the first place, then putting it off as his problem for letting it get stolen, and not getting involved at all.

They definitely wouldn't help.

…

Man, my parents are assholes.

And since I don't want to be my parents, nor am I a complete asshole, I guess I should stop the thief. Ah, and I almost remembered what Francis had told me too…

At that moment, I put my foot out just when said thief ran beside me, and tripped him. He didn't expect that, and fell forward landing his unfortunate face into a pile of slush, the case flying from his grip and falling a few feet away.

"Heh, serves you right, you little piece of trash", I gloated.

The suited man finally caught up to us, his breathing heavy and his face slightly wet. I was surprised. How strange… how very strange…

Still holding the sheets of paper in his fist, the suited man ran over to the thrown case and picked it up carefully, checking over its contents (which I tried to see, but his crouched body blocked the view) not even glancing at our direction.

"Urgh… my face…"

I looked down at the thief, who was slowly getting up, and immediately stepped on his head, feeling my previous annoyance from my thoughts rekindled, needing to release it somewhere. That somewhere was his face.

"Shut-up you lowlife. You dare talk after committing such a crime? You're lucky I didn't fucking punch the living daylights out of you". With each sentence, I increased the pressure on his head.

"Ow, ow! You're hurting me man, stop!"

A red haze started to fill my vision, and I threw away all my good intentions. Screw being a "commoner" or "good person" or whatever that shit my inner thoughts were spouting about; this was too much fun. He really was hurting. Maybe I should make him beg… yeah, that would make me feel a lot better.

"Hmph, you little wuss. This is probably just a fraction of the pain I can do to you. How about I—"

"H-hey!"

I immediately stopped my words, when a shaky voice came from the side, the red haze suddenly clearing. I looked over to where the voice came from, feeling my eyes widen a bit. Under the nearby shop's fluorescent lighting, I could finally get a clear look at the other man's face. I could see him staring at me with eyes that I couldn't make out to be green or gold, his tears gone and a scowl on his handsome face. He seemed to be Italian by the looks of his olive toned skin and chestnut hair with a funny curl bobbing up and down with every movement he made.

"Take your foot off his face, you jerk, you don't have to go that far".

"But he—"

"Just do it!"

I reluctantly took my foot off the man, and he immediately got up and ran in the opposite direction of us. Tch, lucky bastard.

"Great, now he got away. What are you going to do now?"

"Nothing, just leave him, dammit. I got back what I wanted anyways…" He started to turn away.

I was a bit disappointed. After not getting into any fights for a while, I was itching to beat the crap out of that guy. Oh well, c'est la vie, non?

…

Yes, Francis taught me that, okay? Like I could speak French to save my life…

Anyways…

The Italian was starting to walk away from me, without even saying thank you. Rude bastard.

"What, no 'thank you?' I saved that little case of yours and all I get is you breaking me up from a good fight? Not fair."

His face suddenly flushed, as he turned around. "I didn't forget okay? Just… give me a moment…"

I waited somewhat impatiently, as he took a deep breath in, and breathed out, smoke filling the air around him. How hard is it to say 'thank you' anyways?

After fidgeting with the hem of his suit, he cleared his voice and said, "Well… since you helped me out, I guess I should say… t-t-thaann… y-mfph…"

I couldn't hear the rest, as he trailed his words off into a murmur.

"What was that?"

He looked up, obviously embarrassed. "I said… t-t-thank y-you… you jerk… thank y-you for s-stopping him, dammit".

I stared at him for a bit, taking in his adorable blush, and loving the sound of his cute stutter.

Hmm…

I smirked. "Huh? I didn't quite hear what you said there~".

His face became redder and he huffed.

The red-faced man huffed and turned around. "You heard perfectly well what I said, you bastard, so good night to you". With that, he smoothed out his clothes a bit, stomped off to the edge of the side walk, and waved over a taxi.

I did my best to put out a pout. "But I really didn't hear what you said!"

The man flushed and scowled again, and yelled from the car door, "I said 'thank you'. Now goodbye and I hope to never see you again".

With that, he slammed the door shut and the taxi drove away, leaving me a bit confused and wondering when I'd ever be able to see him again...

_To be continued._

* * *

_So! What did you think of my first Hetalia fanfic attempt? ^^ Please leave your thoughts and thank you for reading~_

_13LettersLong_

_Title is based from this song: /watch?v=nxq7gaQGFMI_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and any songs mentioned don't belong to me.**

_AN1: I FIRETRUCKING LOVE CANADA. PERIOD. Just had to say it, leave me alone._

_AN2: Haha, I have no freaking clue what the heck I was thinking when I wrote that ^^;  
And yes, I tend to swear sometimes._

_Thanks to all who faved/followed/reviewed this fic!~ It makes me happy to know that people are reading ^^ And you guys all gave me nice compliments in your PMs :') (LOL, not PMS xD)_

_Thank you very much *bows*_

_And sorry, but I'm a reaaalllyy slow updater, what with IB to deal with -.-  
So please hang in there with me, I'm trying my best!_

_Haha… I hope you guys don't mind long chapters… because I like writing long chapters :L  
This chapter was supposed to include a certain… scene I really wanted to write, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to split it, so this part will be here longer than I wanted it to be, because I wrote too much xP_

_You can say that I'm saving the better part for later~ /shot  
Anyways, the next chapter I assure you will have a lot more action; this here is just sort of an intro-y thing._

_Now that that's said, let's get on to the fic! 8D_

_**(ooo)**_

_Antonio POV_

Now, you may be thinking that I stood in the middle of the sidewalk staring stupidly after the retreating taxi like those love-struck guys in movies.

Heh… well you're wrong.

I was staring stupidly at the retreating taxi in the middle of the sidewalk, but not like those love-struck guys in movies. Because I wasn't in love (nor gay… I think… you know what? Let's not wonder about that right now, shall we?)

…

What, surprised? I only met the guy once, and I didn't even learn his name, what did you expect? Love at first sight? Psh, like that exists in this world.

…

It doesn't change the fact that I think that he has one niiiiice looking, squeezable as… arm.

Yup, I'm definitely not in love. Not in love at all. If fact, I would say this wonderfully annoying feeling was being caused by my overactive hormones.

I furrowed my eyebrows and put my hand to my chin, rubbing it. When _was_ the last time I shacked up with someone good anyways? Last week? Ah, maybe that's why I found that hot-headed Italian's body so alluring…

My sexually frustrated thoughts distracted me from my surroundings, and it was during this time that someone came and grabbed me on the shoulder and twirled me around.

"Ack! What the hell?" I exclaimed.

I turned around and came face-to-face with my dog— er, Berwald.

"Hey."

Damn.

"A-ahahah… so you've found me? That was pretty fast! I thought I had at least another five minutes alone…"

"Get home. Now."

"But I don't want toooo…" I whined.

"Y'must. R'now. U'gent fam'ly matter."

I puffed one of my cheeks out. "Is that right? Well you can go back to your mast—I mean my mother and say that doing paperwork is not an 'urgent family matter'.

He ignored my slip and said, "Involves y'uncle Julian."

I quickly un-puffed my face, and asked "What about Uncle Julian? Is everything okay?"

"I'unno. Ma'am Carriedo just called me telln' me to find y'fast, and t'tell you to c'home th'instant I found you. She sounded out'f it; more than usual. Upset actually. Prob'ly somet'n serious if y'ask me."

Well. That certainly was like a cold shower. You see, my uncle Julian Carriedo is my father. Not biologically of course, but he is my fatherly figure. (I used a metaphor, aren't you proud? Not.)

Actually, he's the father I never had; the person I _wished_ was my actual father.

Because he's just that awesome.

And my actual father was just that much of an ass.

Heh.

Anyways, Uncle Julian was always the one who supported me and guided me as a child, even now, despite his busy schedule as the CEO of Carriedo Pharmaceuticals and Supervisor of the Research and Development Department.

See? Doesn't he sound awesome already? He's a freaking genius I say! Who else would be able to toggle between those two positions? Anyways…

He was the one who was there for my first day of school (we were late that day because he forgot to set the alarm, so we had to rush to the kindergarten before the teachers closed the gates; Uncle Julian even forget to put on his shirt when he dropped me off. You should've seen the moms' faces when they saw his well-built chest, ahaha…). The one who I talked to whenever the family pressure was too much ("they made me put on tights, Uncle! The horror!"). The one who I could safely say was the only person I truly trusted with all my heart.

Hearing Berwald's news of something involving my uncle… made me anxious to no end. If something were to happen to him… I don't know how I would feel. I really don't know.

"I see. Call my chauffer. I want to get home immediately".

Berwald grunted, and with that, he took out his cellphone and dialed a number, speaking a few words then hanging up.

"He'll b'here in 5".

"Alright".

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I had a bad, bad feeling about this. What could have possibly happened to Uncle Julian? My mother never sounded "upset". Not in that context at least.

Just as Berwald had said, the chauffer's car was coming towards us at a speed above the limit.

Not a good sign.

Uncle Julian better be okay, for his own sake and for mine.

**(ooo)**

I was instantly assaulted by words, as Berwald and I entered the mansion.

"Antonio, where the hell have you been?" demanded my father. Don't you know that there is an important matter to be dealt with here? You see, this is why you cannot just simply leave the mansion when you please—"

I had no patience for this at the moment. "Ahhh, shut-up old man, you tell me this every time Berwald brings me back. What you say isn't going to make a difference now, nor in the future. Now tell me what happened to Uncle Julian."

My father glared at me and ignored my comment about Julian. "And it is _because_ you do not listen that I must annoyingly repeat myself every time. I am your father; you should, and must listen to me when I give you an order."

I glared back. I knew he didn't like this one comment I was about to make for some reason…

So I said it.

"You are? I don't remember you ever being my father. Since when has this happened?"

Father's eyes suddenly looked furious, and his face became stiffer. "You know, if I could, I would have kicked you to the curb years ago."

"Yeah? Well I _dare _you to do it now, I wouldn't care. Probably better out there than living in this prison of a house with a brown nosed guy like you."

"Considering the fact that—"

*SLAP, SLAP*

There was a heavy silence as both my father and I touched the stinging spots on our cheeks (I know what you're thinking, you perverted people. NOT THERE).

"Antonio. Please be quiet and settle down. Right now is not the time for this", whispered my mother.

She turned to my still enraged father. "And Ricardo, please do not aggravate Antonio. Not with what has happened."

We both stayed silent. I was a bit surprised. My mother is a cold, nonchalant person and didn't really care to get into other people's business. She almost never smiled, and showed her emotions through almost unidentifiable ways. But at the moment, she seemed a bit upset, either about our fighting, or about whatever had happened to Uncle Julian… or maybe both.

"Let us save the bickering for some other day, we have business to discuss", and with that she headed towards the direction of the dining room.

My father and I gave each other a glare promising each other that the other wasn't finished, and we followed her.

**(ooo)**

"Antonio, it is best that you sit down".

"Yes, Mother".

The three of us, my mother, father, and I, were all gathered around the family dining table (thought I should point that out, since I have like… what, three of them in my house?) and we were all quiet as we each took a seat.

When we all sat, nobody spoke for a while until my father said, "your uncle."

I instantly sat up straighter. "Yes?"

By now my father and I had calmed down a significant amount, so for now I felt that I could hold out long enough to carry a civil discussion with him.

My father sighed, and quickly said "alright, I'll be blunt with you. Your uncle Julian… he's passed on."

I stared at him, not understanding at first. "Wait… you mean… dead?"

"Hmph. Well that's what I said isn't it? Yes, Julian is dead."

_Dead_. The word sounded a bit familiar, but my brain couldn't process it at the time.

_Dead._ Never coming back. Gone forever.

A sudden feeling of dejectedness and confusion overtook me all at the same time. I had a sudden urge to flip the table in front of my parents, yank my father off his chair, and demand a reason for why this was happening, and then letting go of him so I could just cry. I really, really wanted to do those things.

But I didn't. Because that would show my weakness to my parents, and I never, ever want to show them my weak side.

Because they would hurt me, and I'm scared of them hurting me.

Is that so wrong?

So instead of becoming an emotional wreck in front of them, I swallowed up my words and pride, and put up my best blank, obedient face (yes, I do have one. I mean, I don't _always _defy other people) and ended up saying, "Dead, huh? Since when, and how?"

My parents looked a bit taken aback by my calm reaction and sudden politeness, expecting something more. I had been rebelling as of late, so why not now? They must have been expecting me to at least shout at them.

My father answered with a slow "since… this morning. He died from a heart attack." He composed himself once more, and put up his usual frown. "Hmph, I _had_ warned him to drop the position of being Supervisor and to stick to being the CEO, but of course your Uncle refused to listen. I knew that the stress would get to him sometime. Oh well, I tried. It is no longer my problem."

_No longer his problem._ "I see. When shall the funeral be held?"

My mother answered this time. "Tomorrow evening. We would like his body to be buried immediately; we can't have too much media attention now, can we?"

I nodded stiffly. "Okay then. Is that all you would like to say to me?"

"Ah, yes. Get that maid of yours to clean your best suit, because the rest of the family is coming tomorrow too. We want to look respectable, understand? No inappropriate t-shirts with vulgar words on them, or ripped jeans."

_Not like I would even think to wear those types of clothes to Uncle Julian's funeral_. "Yes mother, I understand. Now if that was all you would like to say, may I be excused now?"

My parents stared at me for one second longer, and they both nodded.

I got up, pushed my chair back and walked briskly out of the room.

**(ooo)**

I kicked the door of my room open, entered, and then kicked it closed, trying my hardest to break it but failing.

_FUCK_. I did not expect this to happen. When I arrived home, I had just expected my parents to tell me that something bad had happened to his company or something.

But no; life is never that simple for me. They just had to say "he's dead" and not in the nice, gentle way either… not that I was expecting them to anyways. Leave it to them to think that the death of a close family member was just like losing a large portion of their money from stocks.

In fact, they told me in the same voice they used whenever they lost money. In that same, oh so irritating tone of disappointment, annoyance and callousness.

Oh how I was going to _hate_ the next time they complained about those damned stocks of theirs now.

I walked up to the nearest wall and punched it, the drywall cracking a bit as I did so.

"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Goddammit it all!"

With each 'dammit', I punched the same spot on the wall until it made a hole, drywall dust fluttering around me. I was breathing a bit hard by then, and my knuckles started to bleed a bit, but I didn't care.

This was nothing compared to the feelings I was feeling inside at the moment.

The sadness, bitterness, anger, and heartbrokenness, which are all mixed together to make the metaphorical 'soup of the day' called 'Fuck-My-Life'.

Which is the soup of the day, every day in my restaurant. 'Fuck-My-Life' that is.

And by restaurant, I mean my life, if you haven't noticed.

And I don't care if that didn't make too much sense, deal with it.

Anyways…

"Fuuuuck."

I face-planted onto my king-sized bed and took a deep breath. There was nobody around me now, so I could finally let go a bit. It didn't take long until I could feel the first telltale signs of the dreaded things called _tears_ start to form.

Just then, a patterned knock was heard at my door.

_Knock-thump-knock-knock_

Well then. That must be my personal maid: Elizabeta Héderváry.

Damn, I forgot she was going to clean my suit.

I quickly calmed my breathing, wiped my face from the few tears that came out, and went to open the door.

What I saw was surprising (or not surprising if she already heard the news).

When Elizabeta entered, her face was as pale as a sheet, face showing signs of crying, and deep within her eyes, I could see a trace of fear and guilt.

Now what?

IT WAS LIGHT YAGAMI'S FAULT /shot

_Hope you were okay with this chapter, and don't mind the OC's too much; they're necessary for the story since I can't really think of anybody who would be Toni's family ^^;_

_The next chapter is the one I've been waiting to write, so I guess it'll come easier for me, so expect (hopefully) a quicker update._

_Please tell me what you think! _

_13LettersLong_


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